Caroline Rayner

COSMOLOGY IN FIVE ACTS

just after a storm, lingering vibrations in the airaccumulate on my skinas i drift under a magnolia tree,reflecting upon the zodiac,dreaming i am no longer wingless.

2.

i atone for a history of self-destructionby stringing a necklace of sequinsand rose petals to match a new dress.yet, when possessed by venus in virgo,i resume the shape of my carapace.

3.

you are smoking on a screened porch,aching for the freedom of a drifterwhile lavender grows inside the shell of a pianoleft to atrophy in the backyard. i wonder,can you still play by memory?

4.

i recall fall in the city,slipping into warm clothes,unlearning romanticism.i recall our last afternoon, spent hiding,carefully enjoying the sweetness of split plums.

5.

there is an old house deep in the mountainswhere we stash archival visions––perhaps too idealist, perhaps too escapist––but we no longer pine for anything supernatural,so we breathe.

Caroline Rayner would like to zoom around the forest as a hummingbird with wings that sparkle and reflect crazy patterns along all the trees. Her feathers would change color seasonally: lilac in winter, peach in spring, jade in summer, cerulean in fall. Find her on Twitter & Tumblr.